like real people do
by Call-Me-Crazy.Cuz I Am
Summary: /"At the end of the day, I suppose the whole point of true love is that it was always supposed to simplify down to you and me. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. That's what matters."/ In which Regina and Robin Hood are meant to be, and that's endgame. Even if it takes a bit of effort. And possibly two near-death experiences. Whatever. True love never did run smooth, and all that.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. **

**I do not own OUaT, because if i did, Marian would still be VERY MUCH DEAD, Regina and Robin Hood would be so official it would hurt, and Emma and Killian would've already had sex like seven times. **

**Oi. **

**I needed some Outlaw Queen hope after last night's finale, because I swear, Regina is just not allowed to have a happy ending. It's forbidden. It doesn't go down. **

**Everybody and their cousin gets a happy ending, sans Regina. **

**So, that happens. **

**REEEVVVIIIEEEWWW!**

* * *

Regina stays in bed for three days afterwards.

All she can think of is sandy brown hair and blue eyes and the devastating pain that comes with losing her happy ending, and it takes to much energy to move so she just lays there.

She knew she shouldn't have let Swan live. All Charmings ever do is wreck her life.

.

.

.

(Even the anger doesn't last; all that's there is emptiness. Emptiness and longing.)

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.

.

Robin stays with Marian for two days, never leaving her side, answering all her questions and all her exclamations, but he can't get the look on Regina's face off of his mind.

She's my wife, he thinks. I owe her this. I owe myself this. I owe _Roland_ this.

(Since when is loving someone the same thing as owing them, though?)

.

.

.

Snow brings Neal over on the fifth day and Regina holds him for a bit; his little face is innocent and sweet.

I tried that, Regina thinks idly. And every time I do good I get burned.

Snow smiles pityingly at her and the back of Regina's throat stings.

.

.

.

She gives herself five days of weakness, but the morning of day six greets her zipping into a dress and slipping on her heels. She'll look powerful today and put on her fabric armor, even if she feels nothing like it.

Henry is waiting for her on the porch when she comes out; his brow is furrowed like it always is when he worries.

"Are you okay, Mom?" He asks, and Regina isn't sure but she says yes anyway.

Across the street from her house a little boy with curls like Roland's squeals, and her heart cracks.

.

.

.

It happens, like it was bound to; She's in the diner with her son, and he walks in with his son and his newly resurrected wife, and she feels her stomach sink like someone's dropped stones in it.

Granny shoots her a sympathetic look, which is new, and she counts the grooves in the wood and tries to remain unnoticed.

And then Roland's sweet inquisitive eyes land on her, and he squeals, "GINA!"

Well.

Go unnoticed plan is officially shot to hell.

She meets Robin's eyes for a fraction of a second; they are blue and warm and they make her want him, and the sad bit is under different circumstances, this would be progress.

Now it's just sad.

"Hi, Roland," she says, because she may be changed, but she is still the Evil Queen, and the challenge in Marian's eyes cannot go unmet.

"Missed you!" He says with a toothy grin, and the three adults flinch in unison.

"I missed you as well, Roland," Regina whispers, and he smiles delightedly and Regina hurts inside.

Oh, well. Not like it's anything new.

.

.

.

She doesn't talk to him. She knows what he'd say, and it's not like she could really blame him for it.

Marian is his wife. Regina was a second chance he no longer needs.

It's bad, though, because she doesn't talk to him but he still finishes her sentences, and he thinks what she thinks and they aren't together, but they are still entwined.

.

.

.

Tinkerbell confronts him after the Diner Incident, and gives him such a scathing verbal smack-down he's pretty sure he's got scars.

"You know how hard it is for her to trust," she says indignantly. "She gave you her _heart_, Robin. She trusted you. And she just lost the second love of her life. How is she ever supposed to trust anyone again?"

He can't help but feel like he still has Regina's heart, and he's somehow managed to drop it.

.

.

.

The Snow Queen comes to town, and she has a vendetta; against whom, nobody actually really knows.

Oi.

Regardless, she's sworn to turn the hearts of everyone in Storybrooke into ice, and she's doing a damn good job of it.

They're having a round table meeting at an ironically square table in the Charming loft, and Regina passes her attention between avoiding Robin, who's been looking at her, trying to come up with a solution, and resisting the urge to point out how obvious it is that the pirate and Swan are together.

(Of fucking course. A Charming gets a happy ending, and Regina gets nothing.

Why does it feel like this has happened before.)

"We need someone to get close to her," Charming says, slamming his palm on the table while Snow rocks their son nervously. "That's the only way we'll know what her deal is and how we can stop her."

"We can't," Swan objects. "Anyone who goes near her gets a heart full of ice."

"So we need someone without a heart?" Snow says slowly, and suddenly the puzzle pieces come together in Regina's mind.

"I'm going," she says, and everyone turns to look at her.

"Well, don't act so surprised," she says primly, rubbing her palms on her skirt. "Someone has to go. It needs to be me."

"But Regina," Snow objects. "You...have a heart."

Regina finally meets his eyes, blue and full of emotion she can't sift through, and it's him she speaks to when she says, "I know how to guard my heart."

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.

.

"Regina, seriously," Swan says. "I know you're pissed I brought Marian back. But she's his wife. I'm sorry, but she is. If you're upset, I get that. But turning your heart to ice isn't going to help. Don't do this because of Ro-"

"I'm doing this to help Henry," Regina says sharply. "I'm doing this to keep him safe. That's it. That's all."

Swan bites her lip and nods.

.

.

.

"You're nervous," Robin tells her in her kitchen directly before she leaves to meet Elsa.

"Where's your wife?" She says bitingly, her back to him.

"You were rubbing your hands on your clothes. You do that when you're nervous," he replies, and she hates him for knowing her so well, and hates herself for letting him. "It's alright, Regina. You don't have to pretend with me."

She wants to throw an apple at his head and scream that all she's been doing for the past three days is pretend, but she is in control. She is calm and poised and-

Oh, what the hell.

The apple hits his chest with a dull thunk, and satisfaction rings in her ears at his incredulous expression.

"Did you just throw an _apple _at me?" He says, surprise and something like delight coloring his voice.

"How long did it take you to notice?" She taunts, and because apparently she's lost her mind and is giving into impulse now, she grabs another one and throws it at him again.

He catches it, lets it fall, and begins advancing towards her. "It is _not nice_ to throw things, m'lady. Even Roland knows better than that."

She rolls her eyes at his scolding and backs up, hiding behind the island in her kitchen.

She has a vision of what he's about to do; she can tell by the way his muscles are coiled and he's leaning towards her that he's going to lunge for her, and he's going to try and tickle her. And she's going to let him, because as strong as she pretends to be this man makes her weak.

No more.

The apple she throws at him this time hits his chest with actual force behind it, and she can tell he feels it.

"Regina," is all he says, and there's that bothersome stinging in her throat again.

She refuses to look at him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

She sighs. "Don't...be here. Go home, Robin."

"That's what you think?" He says indignantly. "You think I'm going to leave when you tell me to, when you so obviously need help? Think again, your majesty."

"I think," Regina spits, taking two steps closer until they are almost nose to nose. "That I don't know why you're here. I've made a decision, and I plan to see it through."

"I'm here," he says angrily. "Because I care about you, and I'd like it if you didn't make a bloody stupid decision that lead to your heart getting turned to bloody ice, pr better yet, if you _kept your heart in your chest_ where it was designed to be instead of whipping it out every time some powerful witch comes calling."

"What gives you the right to care about me?" Regina hisses, and all of her anger and frustration comes boiling up into the surface. "Your _wife_ is _alive_ again. Your family is whole and reunited, you should be with them, happy that the one complication in your life is about to be solved. You can't be here. You can't still care about me because I can handle being left, but I am not one side of a twisted low triangle, and I am not going to beg for scraps of affection whenever you are not with the woman you _chose_ to marry. I can handle being left, but I can't handle any loose ends. If it's over, it needs to be over. I don't need you to _care about me_ and prevent me from ever-"

"Don't do this because of me, Regina," and she wants to thrown another apple at him and that stupidly painful look in his eyes.

"Why is it that everyone thinks _you_ are my motivation?" Regina shakes her head and pushes past him. "I'm doing this so _my son_ will stay safe. _Henry_ is all I'm allowing myself to care about right now."

"There's a difference between what you allow yourself to care about and what you _actually_ care about," he says as she opens the door, a clear gesture that his time is up. "You can't shut me out, Regina. I'm going to be there for you."

"You can't," she says. "I'm done needing heroes."

The door slams shut when he leaves the kitchen; she can see him standing on the porch through the screen door, but she doesn't go outside.

.

.

.

So the fucking idiot thief follows her when she goes after Ice Bitch, and of course he brings along half of the Merry Men and his blushing bride.

Regina swears profusely and tosses a fireball at the Snow Queen.

Of course, she can't watch her own back as well as thirteen others, and she ends up half frozen, along with Marian.

That bastard thief is all nice and warm, damn him to hell.

"My sister loved one like you," Elsa hisses to Robin. "A pirate. And he left her, and she went to the Dark One and begged him to freeze the harbor so the man could not escape her and leave her. So he cursed me with this ice magic. I couldn't control it. I was supposed to only turn the harbor; instead, I turned our entire kingdom to ice. Still he man escaped, and my sister's heart turned cold and icy." Elsa wraps a hand that looks like it must be freezing around Robin's neck.

"So here's what I'm going to do, _little thief,_" she says coldly. "I'm going to give you a choice. We'll assume the two lovely ladies you brought with you mean something to you; pick one. I'm turning the other to ice."

"What the hel-" one of the men splutters, and Elsa silences him with ice with a flick of her wrist.

"My sister's heart is like _ice_ in her _chest_," Elsa says angrily. "So I'm going to turn one of theirs into ice, too. Pick one."

Robin's eyes are wide and frantic, but Regina notices that Marian is only slightly flustered. Of course, she wouldn't be; she has no reason to doubt her husband. This shouldn't even be that hard of a choice for him, is probably what she's thinking.

Ice creeps up Regina's neck, and she closes her eyes.

Cold isn't that bad, she muses. It could be worse.

(There are bits of her that think, no, actually, it couldn't.)

.

.

.

Here's what they tell her happened:

Swan and her pirate came charging in, that idiot Charming close behind, and they saved everyone before Robin had to make his choice.

Which, Regina supposes, is better all around. It means, at least, that her life has been saved.

She doesn't pretend like she doesn't know who would've turned ice that day.

.

.

.

Here's what Robin almost does:

Marian is in one corner, Regina in the other, and Marian is only slightly fazed, but Regina's eyes are screwed shut, and Robin knows that she's already decided what he's going to do. She's already gone through every possible outcome and picked the most likely one.

But here's the problem: he doesn't know which one is more likely.

His mouth opens to form a sound, and he's lucky that Emma and Killian burst in at that exact moment, because, he'll realize later (guiltily) the name forming on his lips does not start with an 'm'.

.

.

.

Marian confronts her at Granny's a couple weeks after the Ice Bitch Incident, when she's still having trouble getting warm.

"Stay away from my husband," she says, and Regina groans inside.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I've made any overtures towards your husband in the past three months," is her short reply.

"Release him from the spell you've placed on him," the woman demands stubbornly, and Regina actually sighs out loud.

"He's not under any spell of mine," Regina snaps. "I've barely seen him."

"I've seen the way he looks at you, and I don't know what enchantment you've placed on him, but take it off. Stay away from him," Marian says louder, and now they're attracting gazes, and Regina can see Robin himself look over at them cautiously.

"I haven't gone _near_ him," Regina hisses back. "And I don't have the time or patience to have a dramatic confrontation with you right now, so if you'll excuse me-"

"I won't," Marian says shortly, and now everyone in the diner can hear them. "He's not your happy ending. He's _mine_. You don't deserve that, and you don't deserve him. You deserve all the loneliness you receive, because you are pure evil, and nothing more."

The diner is shocked into silence and Regina feels like, as Swan would say, cutting a bitch.

Or cursing, as the case may be.

"Oh, dear," she says, sweetly, bitingly, condescendingly, mustering up ever last bit of malice she has left. "You say that like it's _news_ to anyone."

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When she leaves, Robin's eyes follow her, and for the first time she lets herself look back.

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.

"I'm sorry about Marian," he tells her, and the words don't ring hollow in her skull anymore.

"I care about you," he says, and suddenly the impacts of pain don't come with the words.

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The sun greets her the same way every morning, but she doesn't put on her fabric armor anymore.

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.

The sun greets him, too, but Marian's arms don't feel like home anymore for him.

She's upset that Roland won't let her sing to him; she keeps saying that he's her baby.

Not a baby anymore, he thinks. He's a boy. And he doesn't know you, and you can't force him to.

Instead of saying it, he looks at the tea rings in his cup and thinks of apples.

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.

So now here they are, final showdown with Elsa take one, and right when they've got her cornered, the bitch makes a desperate move:

She strikes Robin in the heart with ice.

Well, _fuck._

At first Regina thinks the scream belongs to Marian, but then she realizes it's coming from her, and she might as well drop all attempts at pretense.

She shoots a fire ball at Elsa and then makes a bee line to the stupid, stupid, _stupid_ thief who's freezing in the floor.

"R-r-r-regina," he chatters when she's near enough, and god, his voice is already losing it's warmth.

"_Nononono_," is what she thinks she says. "_Nonononono_, you are _not_ dying right now. I am the evil queen, I _forbid you to die_ on me right now you stupid, _stupid_ thief-"

"N-n-not evil," he gasps out with the closet thing to a smile he can give, and behind her Regina can hear Marian wailing but right now Robin is all she can focus on.

"You were the first man to ever truly think that of me," she whispers to him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I'm so sorry-"

"I'm sorry," is the last thing he whispers back and then his skin is blue and his hair is white and he is ice.

No, Regina thinks, and it overwhelms her mind until it's the only thought there.

_No._

No, no, no.

"Marian," she whirls around desperately. "Kiss him."

"Wha-?" Marian is frazzled and unhelpful and Regina is not equipped to deal with this right now.

"I don't have time to play twenty questions with you right now, you imbecile, just kiss him!" She screeches, and the confused woman obliges.

Nothing. He's still cold and blue and so so so gone-

And big fat rolling tears come down Regina's cheeks, and she cries his name and thinks, fuck this shit, and kisses him all over his face, his cheeks and his forehead and finally his lips.

The moment hers touch his, color floods back into his face, and Marian faints.

Well. Would you look at that.

True love's kiss, everyone.

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.

.

("You're alive," she sobs onto his shoulder later. "You stupid, stupid thief, you almost died, you were dead, I thought you were _dead_-"

"I'm not dead, Regina," he keeps saying over and over, but he just died, and she spent the last four month avoiding him in order to preserve his marriage, so yes, she has earned the right to be hysterical in this moment.)

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.

They're sitting in a booth in Granny's, and "So," Charming says, with all the tact of an elephant in a bull riding costume, "True love's kiss. How'd that happen?"

"The same way it usually does?" Regina says snidely, and Swan snorts.

"Stop it, you two," Snow says, placing a fond hand on Charming's shoulder, and Regina looks at it and marvels at how much ease Snow and Charming truly have with one another.

"I just mean," Charming says, "That that's going to complicate some things, right?"

Regina looks past the booth at the outside porch of Granny's, where Robin and Marian are talking animatedly.

"Yeah," she says. "It will."

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.

.

("I still haven't forgiven you, Swan," she hisses before she leaves, and the blonde gives her a steady look.)

.

.

.

It's hard, so, so hard, because on the one hand he has memories of years of loving Marian, being with Marian, dreaming only of her, but Marian died.

Marian died, and he mourned her, and he got over her.

And now he's more Hood than Locksley, and he's not the same man she loved, and he's not the same man who loved her, and he doesn't want to force love anymore. That's not how it should feel, he knows.

Because with Regina it was angry sometimes and messy others, but it was _real_.

"_Go after her,_" Tinkerbell says when he tries talking to her. "You idiot man, go after her! Don't force something that isn't meant to happen anymore; all that'll get you is misery and lonliness and anger. Go get your true love, because not everyone gets the chance to."

after he leaves, Tink slumps against the counter and grumbles, "Stupid. I swear, if I didn't ship them so much, they would _never_ make any relationship progress."

Robin is at her door two mornings later; he's got Roland with him, but not Marian.

"Hello, Regina," he says with a grin, and she opens the door wide enough for the both of them.

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.

.

("She's upset," is what he says of Marian. "She doesn't understand."

"It's a complicated situation," she allows, and he laughs.

"Not really," he says. "Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy."

"Boy's dead wife comes back from another dimension?"

"Yes, well," Robin turns to look her in the eye. "At the end of the day, I suppose the whole point of true love is that it was always supposed to simplify down to you and me. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. That's what matters.")

.

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The next morning, the sun greets them together.

(it was always scripted that way.)


	2. Chapter 2

_"I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I'll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I'll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky." _

_- Lemony Snicket._

* * *

_**i. **maybe we could be the start of something-_

* * *

The sun is bright and hot and sticky, and Regina squints into it as she lays beneath the tree, her horse whinnying quietly behind her and munching on the sweet grass.

Regina sighs, because the whole reason she came out riding today was to find peace, and instead all it's doing is reminding her of Daniel.

Daniel, her dear, sweet stable boy.

(Regina swallows, and she can still feel his touch, the brush of his lips on her neck, the adoration in his eyes as he stared down from above her, hands in her loose hair. The love swelling deep within her stomach for all of his gentleness.)

Such content is beyond her, now. It's no good to think about Daniel's eyes, to imagine his touch, to think of all the things they'd planned. All of the things they'd wanted.

Daniel, her dear, sweet stable boy, was executed by her mother almost two years ago, for no crime but loving her.

So, yes, Regina muses, watching the clouds swim in the sky above her head, perhaps inner peace is a bit too much to hope for at this juncture in her life.

And so there she is, lying on the grass with closed eyes and heavy heart, and her horse begins to scare.

She cracks open an eye, and coming directly towards her is a little boy on a pony that's much too big for him, with this terrified look in his sweet brown eyes, and oh, damn it _all_, Regina is in trouble.

If the horse keeps going like it's going, it'll eventually run into the creek, and when it does it will shake the little boy off and he will drown. _Fact._

And Regina is too much of a sap to let that happen. _Fact._

So what does she do?

The answer is she gets up and she runs to the horse, and she lets her skirts drag in the mud, and she grabs the horses reigns a moment before it shakes off the little boy.

After she's calmed down the animal, she reaches her hand out to the little boy, whose eyes are full of unshed tears and whose bottom lip is wobbling.

"Hello, there," she says soothingly. "It's alright. You're alright."

When he doesn't stop crying, she kneels down and takes his hands, brushing away a tear. "Come, now, it's alright. The horse was scared, but it wouldn't have hurt you."

(Which is a lie, but it comes with good intentions.)

"What's your name?" she asks. "I am Regina."

He sniffles and looks up at her with sweet brown eyes. "I'm Roland," he tells her, and she smiles at him.

"Hello, Roland," she says. "I think we'll be great friends."

* * *

(Roland is terrified of the horse and yet refuses to be parted from Regina, so she carries him on her shoulders and trudges through the mud and grass and swamp with the horses reigns and the little boy's hands in her hair.

They are gentle, she thinks. Not Daniel's, but still sweetly gentle.)

(When she arrives back at the castle, her skirt is heavy and muddy, she's exhausted, and Roland has tugged her hair out of its braid, so it's hot and heavy on her neck.

She enters through the front gate, but Roland is dirty and will need to be washed before she can present him to her mother and ask for help finding his parents, and in order to reach her room and washing chambers, she must travel through the sitting room.

Please, she begs. Please don't let there be anyone there. Please let it be empty.

But this is Regina, and nothing ever works out the way she plans it, and there are squires outside the room which means there's someone in there, and she is going to have to go in with muddy skirt and loose hair and child on her shoulders, like a milkmaid from the village.

Her mother is going to murder her so hard.

But the squires announce her anyway, and she enters with her head held high and her heart sinking.

"Regina!" Cora says, false happiness on her face. "Oh, I was just about to- what have you been _doing_?"

Regina winces and steps forward. "I-"

_"Papa!"_ Roland says excitedly, and kicks at Regina's shoulders so she sets him down.

He runs to a tall man in the corner, who embraces him eagerly.

A tall man in the corner, with a simple crown on his head.

Oh, _no_.)

* * *

"Regina," Cora says, tight-lipped and white-faced. "This is His Royal Highness King Robin of Locksley. Your Grace, I apologize for my daughter's appearance."

"Regina saved me, Papa!" Roland says eagerly, and Regina wants to bury her face in her hands.

King Robin looks up from his son. "Did she now, my boy?" he asks, and his eyes travel across Regina's body, not in a predatory way, simply taking her in.

"She saved me, Papa!" Roland repeats. "She calmed down the horse and made me feel better and then she let me sit on her shoulders and she carried me all the way back to the castle, and I felt safe!"

Regina has a sudden urge to try and muzzle him, but she's heard that muzzling heirs to kingdoms does not necessarily produce positive results.

Robin's eyes meet hers, and she flushes a little.

"I am in your debt, Lady Regina," He says, his voice low and smooth.

"It, uh, wasn't a problem?" Regina says, and she stumbles over her words and goes red.

"Regina, why don't you go get cleaned up?" her father says helpfully.

"Yes," Robin nods his head. "There's something I would like to discuss with your parents."

(This does not look good. He's totally about to punish her for trekking through the mud with his son and not cleaning him up first.)

* * *

While she's drying her hair after a long bath, her mother comes in smiling eagerly, genuinely happy, which means that Regina has lost in some way she does not yet understand.

"Regina, my darling," Her mother says happily. "The King has asked for your hand! You are to marry _the King_!"

"_What?_" Regina cries, and drops the hairbrush.

* * *

"I know this is very sudden," King Robin tells her at breakfast the next morning, while they walk around the gardens. "And I won't force you into anything you are not comfortable with. But my kingdom needs a queen, and my son a mother. I believe you could be both."

"So you want me to marry you?" Regina shakes her head. "I'm sorry, it's just, I don't know you. Or your son. Or your kingdom, if we're being honest."

"It's true, you don't know me or my son. But you saved him yesterday. You made him feel safe." King Robin sighs. "It's been a while since he's felt that. I need a wife; that much is abundantly clear to me, and a woman whom Roland is comfortable with is ideal. If you can provide that for him, then yes, I'd like it if you'd marry me."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll marry me," he says, and his blue eyes are locked on hers and Regina thinks that maybe a part of her is…melting. "Please."

And it's not Roland that makes her says yes, and it's not her mother, either.

It's the fact that when he looks at her like that she can see fire in his eyes, and it's different than how Daniel looked at her, but it's better than how men have been doing it recently.

And she's going to end up pawned off like cattle to someone, so it may as well be a man who loves his son, who at the very least seems to be good.

* * *

Her father looks at her when he signs the betrothal papers, but she can't look back at him.

Her hand is shaky, but the signature is steady, and just like that, she is the King's.

Or, she will be soon.

* * *

Her mother packs her into the Royal carriage with a smile and a trunk full of her most becoming dresses, a long with a promise to come for the wedding and visit that Regina knows she won't keep, and just like that, the only people Regina has in the world are her fiancée and his son.

His son, with curly brown hair and sweet eyes, who is currently pulling on her skirt like a demon.

"Regina," he says exasperatedly, and she leans down to him.

"Yes, Roland?"

"Will you teach me to ride like you do?" he asks her, his little face wide and hopeful. "And then I can show you the stables and the pastures and the duck pond, and we can feed the ducks together and you can be my new mommy, and I'll draw you pictures and we can be best friends!"

Woah, there, kid, is what she wants to say.

But his face is so sweet and hopeful that deep down she wouldn't mind baking him cookies and cooing at his drawings and riding with him.

He reminds her of Daniel, of the son they might've had if her mother hadn't murdered him, and there's a flash of pain in her eyes that she doesn't realize the King notices.

"Of course, Roland," she says, and tentatively takes his hand. "I can show you how to ride. If you want, and if your father is alright with it."

"Papa," Roland turns his pleading eyes on him. "May I please?"

King Robin acquiesces, of course, because to deny his son is impossible, and Regina looks out the window and watches her old life fly past her.

Robin notices her glances, and he asks her, "Will you miss it?"

And Regina looks out at the countryside as it passes by her, and says quietly, "No, I don't think I will."

* * *

Locksley Castle is gorgeous, white with ivy tangling around it, large and spacious and full of life, and it makes it hard for Regina to breath.

There's just so much light, so much space and openness, and Regina has spent the last eighteen years cramped and afraid, so yes, this is a change, but Regina supposes there are worse places to be caged.

"Do you like it?" Roland asks her eagerly.

"It's very pretty," she says truthfully, and she catches the king watching her again.

* * *

Being the King's betrothed basically means getting to know the court, castle, lands, and people, and taking long walks in the garden in order to get to know the King.

"I am not so foolish as to think we will fall into madly in love before the wedding, m'lady," he confesses to her one day, as the sun sinks below the hills and he helps her over a stone hedge. "But I hope that one day we'll care for each other, at least in part. And anyway, we'll have a year of engagement, so you can become acquainted with the kingdom and the people and myself and Roland. "

And Regina can handle caring about him. Anything else, that might be a recipe for self-destruction, but caring she can handle.

And she does care about the king. How could she not? He's brave and kind and so careful with her, always making sure she's comfortable and well-cared for, and he's funny and charming, but just as stubborn as she is, and he's everything she could've hoped for in a husband.

If her heart was free, she might be in love with him right now.

(Of course, it isn't. It's heavy with Daniel.)

(But it's getting lighter every day, and this is perhaps what scares Regina the most.)

* * *

She's baking Roland scones in the palace kitchen, after she's (somewhat rudely) shooed all the servants out. The little boy is sitting at the counter and she's mixing dough in front of the big wooden ovens, pouting slightly when the consistency doesn't straighten out, and Roland reaches forward and smudges her forehead with a stripe of flour.

She gasps dramatically and looks at him. "_Roland Locksley_, you did _not_ just flour me."

He giggles and his face is bright with mischievousness, and he smiles at her.

"Did too."

"No, you didn't," she says stubbornly. "You _couldn't_ have, because if you _did_, then I would have to retaliate." And she dunks her hands in flour and smears them across his chubby cheeks.

He squeals, and she laughs, and he sends a puff of flower her way so the ends of her hair are coated in it, and she huffs.

"Roland, that is _not nice_."

"What's not nice?" comes the King's voice from behind the corner, and when he enters, both Roland and Regina are spotted with flour and guilty looking.

Just the sight of them makes him laugh, and soon he's sitting next to Roland, watching Regina hum as she mixes a new batch of scones.

"And what are you making?" he asks, and she titters.

"Hopefully? Apple scones. Right now? Mushy mush mush mush." Regina shakes her head. "The apples are messing with the consistency."

"And is that a problem, milady?"

"Of course it's a problem, without the consistency they might as well be apple fritters, or pancakes, or other things that are not scones."

"Hmm," The King says, and reaches over and seizes a glob of batter from the bowl, causing Regina to huff and put her hands on her hips. "Tastes find to me."

"Thief." She growls.

"Oh, lady, you wound me." The king grasps at his chest in mock hurt and offers the batter to Roland.

"_You're_ a common thief." She tells him obstinately, and he flicks flour at her.

"_You're_ a poor excuse for a lady. Riding and baking? Next you'll be braiding your own hair and raising your children yourself."

"Yes, well," Regina says, growing quieter. "I didn't have a lot of servants. Most of them were scared of my mother."

(What Regina doesn't tell him is that a) she was perhaps the most scared of her mother, and b) she's a little bit worried about the 'children' bit.

Is that something he…wants? Because children means sex.

Which is, um.

Not something she's thought much about with the King. She used to daydream about Daniel, but then her mother ripped his heart out before her eyes, and, well, that kind of kills all romantic fantasies.

But the king, she thinks, the king is not something I've imagined before.)

"The lady Cora can be quite terrifying."

"Oh, you don't even _know,_" Regina begins, and swats Roland's hand. "Roland Locksley, steal anymore of this batter and you will get a stomachache like you cannot even imagine."

"But it's sweet," Roland protests, and Regina shakes her head.

"Roland, all that is sweet is not good," she admonishes him, but when his face falls she sighs and hands him the mixing spoon. "Here. When you ache later, it's not my fault."

"And you bend rules," Robin shakes his head. "You, milady, are not what you seem."

"Well, as my mother says, I have a touch of evil in me," Regina laughs, but her shoulders tense. "You're probably seeing that."

"Not evil," He tells her, and he takes her eyes with his and does not let them go. "Boldness. Wit. Determination. Resilience. Fierceness. But not _evil_."

She keeps his eyes for a one minute, two, three- and then she looks down.

"Compliment or no, you're still a thief," she tells him, and he laughs.

"Whatever you say, milady."

* * *

She sits court with the King, listens to him listen to the people's grievances, and he is fair and kind in all of his judgements, which, let's be honest, is not a very common trait among Kings.

But it's not surprising that he's just; what's surprising is that he brings Regina in, asks her opinion, allows her to make decisions. Which is funny, because Regina is so used to being nothing put a pretty ornament, and that's all she thought she'd ever be without Daniel, a horsewoman without a horse, a pretty doll on the arm of a king, talking to people's wives while he handles the important things.

But Robin doesn't let her be that. He makes her more than that.

Which is maybe the best thing he could've ever done for her, and yes, if Daniel wasn't still in her soul she'd love him so hard by now.

* * *

Regina thinks she's pretty damn good at hiding, if she does say so herself, but evidently not good enough, because one day they're walking through the garden, and Roland's in front of them, playing in the grass, and Robin looks over and asks her why she's so sad.

"Don't try to deny it, Regina," he says. "I know pain when I see it. What's weighing so heavily on your heart?"

Regina ducks her head and skims a wildflower patch with the tips of her fingers.

"The life I'm leading here is just different than the one I thought I'd have, that's all," she says, and then quickly adds, "It's _good_ different."

"Well, that's good, at least," he says, and she smiles.

And then he says, "Who was he?" and Regina trips.

He laughs as he helps her up, flushed and embarrased, and he says, "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? I'm no stranger to heartbreak, Regina. I know what it looks like."

Of course he'd know, she thinks ruefully. Queen Marian died in labor not six years ago, and by all accounts the King loved her more than life.

Regina decides that from this height, the grass is in fact extremely interesting.

"Well?" Robin prompts her. "Not talking about it doesn't make it go away, you know."

And Regina sighs and says, "His name was Daniel, and he was our stable boy."

When she looks up at him, his gaze is soft and understanding, and he says, "You really are a _terrible_ lady."

And she might get offended, but she knows he means it as a compliment. She knows that he's saying that she's better than the vapid butterflies flapping around his court, or the soulless ones, like her mother.

"Tell me about it," Regina huffs. "But he was our stable boy, and he was so..._gentle_. And kind and good. And I loved him too much."

"How can you love someone _too_ much?" Robin wonders aloud. "Unless he did not care for you in return?"

"He did," Regina says, and beyond them Roland is chasing butterflies up trees, "We were going to run away together. Leave my lands and be content, finally. But my mother found us out, and the night we planned to leave, she cornered us in the stables." Regina sighs. "You have to understand, my mother has been disappointed in me since the day I was born. You'd think she'd get tired of it, but no. I've never been good enough for her, never done anything right in her books. In her mind, her only triumph with me would be to marry me off advantageously, and here I was, preparing to ruin that as well. So she ripped his heart out in front of me, and she crushed it, and she killed him, and she did it all because I loved him enough to believe we could win. I loved him enough to deceive myself."

Ironically, this is the first time she's so much as thought of Daniel's name, of the events leading up to his death, and hasn't cried, so that's a plus, she supposes.

"Do you regret it?" Robin asks her. "Loving him. Do you wish you'd never loved him?"

Regina has to think about it.

"If I'd never loved Daniel, if he had never loved me, then I never would've felt that pain of losing him. But I was a different person before Daniel, and if I'd never met him I would have turned out very differently. I don't know if that version of Regina would've stopped to save Roland. I don't know if she would've cared enough."

"I do," Robin says, and Regina turns to him but he's looking the other direction. "I know you would've cared, and you would've stopped, because I have known you for six months, and I can tell that you are an inherently good person. At your core, you are _good_."

Regina opens her mouth to reply, but Roland lets out a screech in front of them, and when she looks up the damn kid is falling from an apple tree.

She doesn't think about it, she doesn't consider it; it's a gut reaction to reach for him, to run ahead like she hasn't before and try and catch him.

She doesn't of course, because Roland is too far ahead, but she's there when he starts wailing, and she pulls him into her lap and rocks him.

"Shh, shh, Roland," she says frantically, trying to stay calm as Robin searches the little boy for the part that hurts. "Shh, it's okay, you're alright."

"_Mommy,_" he whimpers. "Mommy, it hurts."

So.

Roland just said Mommy.

Any other time, Regina would probably glance behind her and see if there's anyone else in the vicinity he could be talking to, perhaps a friendly-looking woodland maiden, but right now there definitely isn't, and anyway, the boy is injured.

(Probably.)

"It's alright, Roland," She says. "It's alright, I'm here, you're going to be fine. It'll only hurt for a little, I promise."

"His ankle is sprained," Robin says grimly. "Which isn't so bad. But he'll need some ice, and I'd like him to see a physician."

"Of course," Regina nods, and kneels beside the little boy, placing one hand under his neck and the other under his knees.

"What are you doing?" Robin asks her and Regina snorts.

"Taking him to the castle, of course," she says. "You don't think he'll be able to walk on that leg, do you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But nothing. He needs to get back to the castle, so he can sleep and have ice and see a physician, and he can't do that unless I carry him. Therefore, I'm carrying him."

Robin stares at her, and a slight flush comes to her cheeks. "He called you Mommy."

"I know, but he's kind of _injured_ right now, so if we could just-" Regina goes to gesture up the path and back to the castle, but before she completes the motion, Robin has brushed her lips with his.

It's sweet and kind and soft, but when he pulls away there's a look in his eyes that says _just wait until we're alone and my son isn't injured we are going to **discuss** some things._

But if Regina focuses on that, she'll drop Roland, and the poor kid's already had enough of that for one day.

* * *

And then they've got the physician to look at Roland's leg, and he's tucked up in bed with ice and about four thick quilts, and Regina is biting her nails with a completely different sort of nervousness that has little to do with Roland and a hell of a lot to do with his father.

"So," She begins awkwardly.

Robin pours amber liquid into two glasses and hands one to her, one that she accepts gratefully. "So."

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Do you know why I wanted to marry you, Regina?" he asks her and she shakes her head.

"Because I made Roland feel safe?"

"Because you walked in, and it was obvious you'd walked. And your hair was loose and your skirt muddy, but you held your head high and you walked with determination, with my son on your shoulders. And I thought you were beautiful."

"So you want to marry me because I looked pretty one night?"

"I wanted to marry you because I could see strength in you, fierceness, but I could also see weakness. I don't know if you realize this," he paused. "But when you walked into that room, your head was high, but your hands were shaking. And I saw that vulnerability, and I knew then that if I was going to marry someone, it was going to be you."

"And that's all well and good," he continues, "But here's where the sticky bit comes in: I never expected to care about you this much. I knew I'd like you, and I knew I'd care about you, but this-"

"What?" Regina asks him quietly, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "What is _this_? What's so unexpected?"

And his eyes flick down to her lips, and um holy damn uh this is actually about to happen right now, he is actually leaning forward and his eyes are flicking closed, and those are actually his lips on hers.

And it feels right and so much better than anything else she's felt since Daniel died and it doesn't even feel like a betrayal because Daniel was gentle and kind, and he'd _want_ this for her. He'd want her to be happy. He was good like that.

When he pulls away, she murmurs, "Is that it? You didn't think you'd want to...kiss me like that?"

He chuckles soft and low, the kind that sends shivers down Regina's spine. "I didn't think I'd love you like that."

"Was that supposed to be a confession?" Regina blurts out, and then flushes.

"It was _supposed_ to be a declaration," He replies. "But confession works well too, I suppose."

* * *

It's down to the last month of their long year-engagement, and Regina's in fittings for a wedding dress she doesn't even like almost every day, which is not fun, because the seamstresses are liberal with the pins and harsh with the tightness of the corset.

(What's the point of wearing a corset in your wedding dress? All it's going to do is make it that much more difficult when you have to take it o-

Oh, god, Regina thinks, and it dawns on her that she's going to have to take this off, or Robin's going to take it off for her, because they're getting _married,_ and marriage means a _wedding_ and a wedding means a _wedding night_, which means-

Sex.

Sex, which is something that she hasn't done before and can't study or learn about or practice or-

Yeah, she needs to stop thinking about this or she's going to have a panic attack.)

"Milady?" one of the seamstresses asks her nervously. "You look white. Do you need to sit down? Perhaps an apple, to boost your strength?"

"That would be lovely," Regina replies. "Can I just- have a moment?"

The seamstresses nod and busy themselves walking outside of the fitting room, and Regina sinks to the floor, closes her eyes, and lets the dress pool around her.

She doesn't know how long she sits there for, but eventually the sound of heavy boots on the wood flooring reaches her ears, and when she opens her eyes there's Robin standing in front of her with a cheeky grin.

"Did you seriously fall asleep in your wedding dress?" He shakes his head. "You are-"

"A terrible excuse for a lady, I know," She says sleepily. "Please, continue in your abuse of me."

"I was going to say extraordinary," He says winningly and pushes the stray bits of hair out of her face.

"Sure," Regina's slightly skeptical, but whatever. "I don't suppose you have an apple on you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Robin says, and brandishes a shiny pink-red apple, moving it when Regina makes a swipe for it. "Ah, ah, ah, milady. Patience."

"Thief," Regina spits back at him, but all he does is laugh.

"Milady," he replies, and gives her the apple. "Or should I say Your Majesty, as we'll be married?"

When she bites into it, a little sound of happiness comes from her, because it's a pretty good apple, and Robin's eyes darken a shade, so she smirks.

And the smirk turns into a sound of protest when he takes the apple back and presses a firm, searing kiss to her mouth.

(And is that her wedding dress crackling beneath her? Or the sound of all her resolve hitting the dark wood floor?)

* * *

And then, here it is:

Regina's father's arm is looped through hers, and every shaky breath she takes makes the white veil on her face poof out, but her head is high and her steps are steady, and the way he looks at her just reminds her of that night in her parent's sitting room, with her skirt caked in dirt and a child on her shoulders, and know her skirt's dripping lace and silk and that child is only steps ahead of her, carrying rings on a pillow and beaming.

And Cora is beaming at her from the front row, finally proud of her daughter, and Regina honestly doesn't care what her mother thinks anymore, but it's nice, and Regina is 10 steps away, nine, eight-

A puff of green smoke, and a woman materializes in front of the aisle.

"Hello, sis," she says, green eyes sparkling coldly, green skin drawing gasps. "Congratulations."

* * *

"Oh, I'm sorry, my manners are lacking," the woman, who supposedly thinks herself to be Regina's sister says. "I am Zelena. I take it our mother never spoke of me?"

"Regina," Cora says calmly, "Back away from her."

"Oh, don't worry, mum, I won't hurt her," Zelena smiles coldly. "At least not yet. She can get married to whatever boy-king she wants to. I just came to give a little...sneak peek, into your future."

With a crook of her hand, she summons Roland to her, and Robin draws his bow but Zelena immobilizes him with a flick of her wrist.

"Such a beautiful boy," Zelena coos. "Such lovely curly hair."

"_Get the fuck away from him,_" Regina loses her cool and snaps, and Zelena quirks an eyebrow.

"But he's so adorable, sis," she says patronizingly. "And he could call me Auntie Z, how sweet would that be?"

"Regina, hold your tongue," Cora says sharply, but Regina's pissed now, and she's too angry to think about consequences.

"Leave him alone," Regina growls. "And while you're at it, leave this palace. This world would also be good, too."

Zelena chuckles darkly. "Oh, if only you knew, sis," she says, and then shakes her head. "No matter. You should know, sis, I'm not one to follow orders. I'm _wicked_, and I don't particularly fancy leaving anything or anyone, at this moment."

"I didn't ask you if you _fancied_ anyth-" Regina begins, but Zelena's eyes darken and she raises her hand and Regina's throat starts to constrict and suddenly it's impossible to breath and the ballroom is dancing before her eyes and she's way too lightheaded.

"You talk far too much, sis," Zelena says, as Regina gets closer and closer to losing consciousness. "What kind of bride speaks on her way down the aisle? You're a disappointment, Regina, in all the ways that matter. All you've ever done is disappoint our mother. I should have everything you have, it should be _me_ walking down this aisle, it should be _me_." She takes a deep breath. "I change my mind; I just might kill you."

And Cora stands up and preforms some kind of spell, but Zelena's focus is on Regina, and it's unwavering. And suddenly blackness is creeping in and around Regina's vision and she can't feel her arms or legs, and the spots are swimming in front of her view, and at the altar Robin's face is devastated, crumpled by his inability to move, inability to save any of them, and Roland's eyes are swimming with tears, and Regina thinks: I am not going out like this.

And she doesn't know how, but she's so angry and she just starts pushing back at Zelena, even as her head swims, even as she feels her body shutting down from lack of oxygen, she pushes.

And Zelena flies back.

Regina gasps for air, and her father rushes to hold her, and Robin's already down the altar steps and half way to her when Zelena gets up again.

"So you inherited more from Mummy than just a title," Zelena says, anger in her voice. "Perfect Regina, of course you'd have magic. Of course, you couldn't even leave me that." Her lip curls and fury radiates from her. "I am going to ruin you for this, Regina. I am going to take _all of your_ _happy endings_."

She stalks even closer, but Cora keeps her from advancing all the way. "I'm _wicked_, sis. _Wicked_."

"Didn't you hear?" Regina chokes out, the room still spinning. "I've got a touch of _evil_."

Zelena's slip curls, and with that, she disappears into another bright green cloud.

* * *

"Well," she hears one guest mutter to another. "That certainly ruins the moment."

"Indeed," the guest mutters back. "And the wedding night, as well."

* * *

And don't get Regina wrong, it does, kind of.

There's a threat hanging over them the whole damn time, but she marries Robin anyway and becomes Queen Regina of Locksley, because no way in hell is she going to let Zelena win and stall her wedding.

And so she get married, and right after she has her coronation, and then there's dancing (even though they currently have a no-more-happy-endings threat hanging over their head) and eating and a lot of kissing.

Like, a lot.

Everybody and their cousin wants to see one, from the guests to the people congregated outside of the palace to the servants, and it's not like Regina minds it (Regina doesn't mind it. At. All.) but it goes by really fast, and then, with a few shifty glances and raunchy comments, they're shooed out to the King's bedroom.

"I brought you something," Robin says as they ascend the staircases to his rooms.

"What is it?"

He tosses her an apple in response, and she sinks her teeth into it and watches his eyes darken in the way she's beginning to realize she likes. "This is delicious," she practically moans.

"I'll never understand why you love apples so much," he laughs. "I mean, they're a decent fruit, but you practically worship them."

"Apples are amazing," she tells him sternly, and he retaliates by stealing the one in her hand.

"Thief," she spits, and this is becoming a pattern with them, isn't it?

"Your Majesty," he says back, and his voice is low and gravelly, and when she looks over at him, he's biting at the apple, and something about it sends floods of heat throughout her.

It's that heat that propels her to connect her lips to his and push him up against the wall of the staircase, and it just keeps coming and coming until she's shivering from the warm goodness of it, and she never wants to stop, ever.

And then he picks her up and carries her the rest of the way up the stairs and Regina doesn't think she's experienced this particular brand of happiness since she was sixteen and in a very different kind of love.

Because Regina's not an idiot and she prides herself on her personal knowledge so she gets that she's in love with the King. And she also gets that it's not the same love she felt for Daniel, because that was fast and urgent and new, and this...this snuck up on her.

But she loves him.

And for once, Regina's thinking that maybe that's enough.

* * *

"That little _bitch_," Zelena rages, and Rumple giggles. "Don't laugh, she's- she's- she's married, and she got to live _my_ life, _and_ she has _magic_!"

"She's quite something, isn't she, dearie?" Rumple says snidely, and Zelena scowls.

"No, she _isn't_. She's an insufferable little bitch. _I'm_ going to cast your curse. _Me_. Not that stupid _whore_."

"So you shall, dearie," Rumple says, and his voice takes on a darker tone. "So you shall."

* * *

But when Regina wakes the next morning, she doesn't know anything about curses being cast, or imps and witches making deals in the night.

No, all she knows is that she is married, she has a husband, and he's laying next to her in a bed that seems much too big for the amount of closeness she's currently craving.

(If she's being honest, she's also kind of glad she tried to not fantasize about Robin, because there's no way they could've ever held up to the real thing.

Literally.

Regina's sore and happy all at the same time.)

And she turns and stirs, and he does, too, and for a while they just lay there, and his hand traces patterns up and down her body, and Regina is _content_.

When she finally speaks, it's just to say, "You're stealing all the blankets. Thief."

He grins back at her, brings his hand up to cradle her face. "You're beautiful. Your Majesty."

* * *

And so life happens, for them.

One, two years pass, and Roland gets bigger (but not _big_) and so do Regina's hopes because she's just now realizing that she can have them.

What doesn't get bigger is Regina's stomach; it doesn't swell with pregnancy, but Regina figures that's not really a problem. It's not like it's urgent, or anything; she's almost lucky that Robin already has Roland, because it takes the daunting pressure of producing an heir off of her shoulders.

And damn, if she doesn't love the both of them with everything she's got, every single way she knows, and damn if it isn't equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

They get invited to the wedding of some new prince and princess, Leopold's daughter, Snow White, and Prince James, so of course they attend and Roland fidgets in his clothes the whole time but Regina slips him bits of the apple scones she's finally perfected, and afterwards she dances with her husband and his son and the new groom.

"Congratulations, James," she says kindly, and the man smiles charmingly.

"I'm so_ lucky_, Your Highness," he admits. "I'm so lucky to have her and to love her."

And Regina looks over at Robin,who's making Snow laugh as they dance, and smiles at James, because she thinks she knows exactly how he feels.

* * *

And it's funny, how one day Regina's dancing at James and Snow's wedding, and the next she's picking apples in the orchard with Roland and the day after that she's kissing her husband on their balcony, and after that she's watching Robin teach Roland the bow and arrow, and everything works out perfectly and happily. She and Robin and James and Snow and some of the other princes and their wives start up a sort of Zelena council, monitoring the threats and her activities, but other than a brief appearance at a wedding, she's been on the down low, and Regina gets this really funny feeling she thinks might be called peace.

And the happy days blur together until it's ten months after James and Snow's wedding, and Snow's belly is heavy with child, and Regina's is still flat, and puffs of green smoke close in on their world.

Because happiness doesn't last for long.

Regina should know this better than any of them.

* * *

You know what else is funny?

How one minute Regina's _Regina_, and she has Robin and Roland, and the next minutes, stupid green smoke reaches her and she's

she's

she's

She's _nothing_, and then she's Amelia Mills, twenty one years old, living with her best friends n an apartment in the bad area of Storybrooke, Maine.

Amelia Mills likes apples, craves them, even, more than almost anything else in the world and paints her lips and nails bright red and wears her hair long but pulled up or back; she lives with her father and doesn't talk about or to her mother, who was married to a man who isn't Amelia's father when she had Amelia. (She's pretty sure her mother has a legitimate daughter, too, one who lives on the upper side of town and lives a life Regina might be jealous of, if she had the energy for anything other than indifference. Her sister's name is something like Zoey. Zara, maybe.)

Amelia Mills graduated Storybrooke High with a 5.0 and no plans for college; instead, she stayed and took care of her father and moved in with her best friends and kept her head down.

Amelia Mills, who works at Lillian's Bakery on 34th and Main, Amelia Mills, who keeps her head down.

She lives with Mary in a spacious loft that looks out on the whole city, so she can see the muggings and gun shots from her window when she chooses.

Storybrooke, Maine, might've been a quaint little town in another life, but in this one it's a sprawling mini-city, and Amelia lives in the cheapest (worst) part of the city, in an apartment building that probably wouldn't meet health code if any one cared enough to check; three floors below her and Mary are David Nolan and his friend, the one whose name she can never remember. And it's embarrassing, because she feels like she should be able to remember it. She feels like she's missing something.

Amelia Mills has one friend, Mary, and she's used to the strange looks in the market, the whispers. She's a bit of a pariah in this town; everyone looks at her with apprehensiveness, and sometimes even fear. As if she's evil and she simply doesn't know it yet.

And you can look at Amelia Mills, look at her high ponytail and red lips and nails, look at her dresses and sweatpants, look at her apartment and her city and her solidarity and the bowl of apples she keeps on her kitchen table, and you might think you understand her but you will never know her because (this is the funny bit) _she_ doesn't even know her.

Amelia Mills is a bit of an enigma to everyone, but most of all herself.

* * *

Twenty-eight years. That's how long she spends in this halfway limbo place, growing crazy because she feels like there's something more out there, something she's missing, working at the same bakery, living at the same place, smiling at David and what's-his-face when they pass in the halls, teasing Mary about her crush.

Of course, she doesn't know that it's twenty eight years; she doesn't age and she goes about her motions and even though she wants more she doesn't bother going out to get it. She may want more, but she's pretty sure more doesn't want _her_.

But then, there she is, sitting at a table in a midtown diner called Granny's, fork buried deep in a piece of comfort apple pie, and when she looks up there's a face she doesn't recognize, framed by blonde hair and leather jacket.

That's funny, she muses to herself, because she's lived in this town her entire life, and she's never seen anyone _new_. Storybrooke's a town you get _out_ of, not one you get into.

Blonde-leather-jacket-stranger takes a cup of coffee and a room, and outside the midtown clock strikes seven.

* * *

She's on her way back from Granny's and she's looking at her phone, frantically looking up suggestions for improving scone consistency (_those goddamn apples-_) and she's so busy scrolling that she doesn't realize she's bumped into someone until she hears an accented swear and smells squashed pie.

(Apple pie is _serious_. If it's squashed and inedible, Amelia will be pissed.)

"Oh, god," She says, halfheartedly dabbing at the sweater-covered chest of who ever she'd just run into, which was slightly smeared with pie bits. "I'm, uh, sorry."

"It's alright," the stranger says with a charming grin, and Amelia immediately relaxes. "It's just a little bit."

"I wasn't looking where I was going," Amelia shakes her head and her high ponytail swings. "Which is not typical for me."

"Everyone makes mistakes," he says, and when Amelia looks up at him she recognizes him as David Nolan's roommate, the one whose name she can never remember.

"Amelia Mills," She says, and she sticks her hand out.

When he takes and shakes it, she gets this crazy sense, like she's done this before.

"Callum Hood," he introduces himself, and somehow Amelia gets this crazy feeling that he's the _something_ she's been missing.

"I'll see you around, then," he says, after she gives him and indifferent look, and he walks off in the opposite direction, and Amelia stands in the hallway with semi-squashed apple pie in one hand and a heart that's going crazy in her chest, and she thinks maybe indifference is not the best way to handle this.

* * *

Two days later, she looks outside of her window, and Mary swoons because David's out there in a moss-smudged tank, but Regina's focused on his roomate, Callum (funnily enough, she hasn't forgotten his name) who, bow and arrows on his back, laughs and wipes his face with his own t-shirt, which rides up to reveal-

"Amelia," Mary says quietly. "Callum. Is. Hot."

And Amelia watches the smooth movement of the hard planes of his stomach, swallows, and says, "I bet he smells like forest."

* * *

_**i. -**be together at the start of time._

* * *

**_tbc._**


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. Can I just go ahead and thank every one of you for the wonderful response the AU has gotten? Every single review, follow, or favorite means the world to me, guys, and that's the 100% truth.**

* * *

_I caught you burnin' photographs  
Like that could save you from your past  
History is like gravity  
It holds you down away from me. _

_[..]_

_Come to me with secrets bare  
I'll love you more so don't be scared  
When we're old and near the end  
We'll go home and start again. _

_- 'Come to Me', the Goo Goo Dolls. _

* * *

**ii. **_you and me, we both got sins, and i don't care about where you've been. don't be sad and don't explain-__  
_

* * *

Let's just make this clear right now: Amelia Mills does not lead an interesting life.

She wakes up at 7:00 every morning, makes her coffee, walks down the boardwalk to the bakery, does her shift, and walks back home.

She wears heels every single day and walks the same path, and the only thing that's different is what type of take-out she and Mary order and which Nicholas Sparks movie they watch on Friday night.

But it's different, now, now that she's met Callum and now that the blonde-leather-jacket-stranger is in town. It's different because she finds herself changing little things, like the shoes she wears to work and the shade of her lipstick and she runs into Callum a lot more, which she does not mind at all, but which is also a problem of sorts, because apparently he has a girlfriend.

And because the universe hates Amelia and refuses to allow her happiness, said _girlfriend_ turns out to be none other than her half-sister, whose name Regina can finally recall: Jade Rivers.

And it's funny, because not only does the name seem wrong to Amelia, seem like it doesn't quite fit her half-sister, but she looks at them, walking down the hallways and holding hands and kissing, and god, something about it just makes her skin crawl. It seems fundamentally _wrong_, like it's the exact opposite of what should be happening, of what was _intended_ to happen.

She tells Mary about it, but her roommate just laughs and tells her that the feeling she's talking about is commonly referred to as jealousy and mutters some nonsense about a river in Egypt, and Amelia laughs it off and tries to forget the fact that whenever Jade's eyes land on her they have this strange, terrifying look of triumph, as if she's stolen something from Amelia.

As if she's _won_ something.

* * *

So, Amelia's not a person to beat around the bush: Callum Hood is hot.

And besides that, he's genuinely a nice person, on the rare occasions she sees him without his girlfriend. He's funny and smart, and Amelia avoids him like the plague because she's gotten this far in Storybrooke by keeping her head down, and crushing on her half sister's boyfriend, her half-sister who practically owns the town, is for all intents and purposes the exact opposite of that.

She's got other things to think about, like the fact that her scones are finally beginning to turn out right, and also the fact that her roommate is both in love with David-from-downstairs and unable to talk to David-from-downstairs without spilling something on him.

And Amelia likes Mary; she's too cheerful for her own good and too naive and she has this thing about trying to sneak birds into the apartment, but Amelia has grudging affection for her, so if Mary needs a matchmaker/kick in the ass, well, Amelia can deliver.

When she hears David-from-downstairs is throwing a party, she jumps at the opportunity.

"Is this really necessary?" Mary whines as they step out of the elevator onto David's floor. "I mean, I'm going to get _cold_-"

"So ask some nice boy for their jacket," Amelia snaps (she used up all of her niceness trying to wrestle Mary into the dress she's wearing). "If I see you in a cardigan, I will shank you. Because I care."

"That should be put on a greeting card somewhere," Mary says. " '_I laced the cookies with arsenic. Because I care._' "

"Don't give me any ideas, Penny Positive," Amelia grumbles. "Knock on the door."

Mary does, and the look on her friend's face when David answers is absolutely priceless.

* * *

Amelia spends the majority of David's party on his couch, sipping what she suspects is fruit punch with a twist and supervising Mary from a distance. From the way it's looking, though, her friend is _not_ in need of supervision and is probably more in need of a condom.

The thought of Mary's face if Amelia ever actually said that to her makes her smile, and she's too lost in her thoughts to register that someone's sitting down beside her until Callum says, "What's got you so happy?"

The sound of his voice makes her jump, which leads to a coughing fit and several glares directed his way.

"Nothing." She says shortly. "Nothing at all."

"You're sure?" he teases. "Because you definitely looked marginally happier than usual, and if you don't want to tell me why, I'm going to have to assume it's me."

"Do you chart the amount of happiness I show?" Amelia scoffs. "And don't flatter yourself."

"You look so peeved all the time, whenever you show the smallest bit of happiness it's like you're a completely different person." He tells her. "It's quite interesting."

"Well, you always catch me in the morning and in the night," she tells him primly. "I'm an afternoon woman."

"I seem to remember you telling me to 'step on Legos barefoot' two days ago, in the middle of the afternoon." He smiles at her, and god, Amelia has this sudden urge to run her thumb on the corner of that smile, kiss him so she can feel that particular brand of sunny happiness.

But it's not like she wants to do it because she's buzzed or anything; it's more like it feels almost like deja vu, like she's done that before a hundred times and it feels natural, right, even, to do it again.

"Maybe I just don't like you," she says, but the corner of her mouth turns up in a smile, and her words don't even sound real to her. "_Maybe_ I just don't want to be nice to you."

He laughs at her. "I suppose I'll just have to practice what I preach and show you the joys of being happy."

"Mhmm." She says, unconvinced. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"She should've been here half an hour ago," he shrugs. "I'm not worried about it, she'll turn u- _Dear god, look at our roommates!_"

Amelia turns around and promptly bursts out laughing, because sweet, innocent, slightly prudish Mary is making out with David-from-dwonstairs on the pool table like it's going out of style.

"Good for him," Callum grins. "He finally grew a pair and made a move."

"Are you serious?" Amelia gapes. "He's liked her for a while?"

"If forever is classified under _'a while'_..."

"She's had a crush on him since infancy, I'm convinced," Amelia bites her lip and tries futilely to hold back the smile on her lips. "Idiots. If they weren't so shy, they could've already had years together."

He looks at her sideways and gives her a lopsided smile. "I think things happen when they're meant to, Amelia. Maybe their timing just hasn't been right until now."

She looks up and straight at him for a few minutes, and she doesn't understand this, this multitude of feelings and mess inside of her for this man she's barely known a month.

It's like she knows him, like some part of her consciousness remembers him from something far, far away, and Regina's left with feeling she can't understand and a past she doesn't remember.

"Why are you so unhappy, Amelia?" He asks her quietly, startling her out of her thoughts, but that's no good because that very phrase makes her think of-

-apple orchards and sunlight and a little boy with brown curls and wisps of memory just out of her reach.

"I'm not unhappy," she replies equally quietly. "I'm just lost. I think I need someone to help me find myself."

(Why did she just tell him that? She _doesn't. _

_Even. _

_Know. _

_Him._)

"Or maybe," he says, never looking away from her. "You need someone who's willing to be lost with you."

* * *

(She drinks four apple martinis that night, but somehow the imaginary taste of him on her tongue, something she's never even experienced, lingers, and when she dreams, it's of apple orchards.)

(She thinks that maybe he's driving her to madness.)

* * *

And the kicker is, after that, she sees Jade around a lot more, but it's not for any happy reason; she and Callum are constantly fighting, now, sometimes it's loud and angry and Regina can hear it when she passes his apartment in the morning, and sometimes it's quiet and deadly and she sees anger in the set of Callum's shoulders and the curl of his hands.

"Stay single for as long as you can," he tells her wearily as he waits for David to come down from Mary's room so they can leave for a forest-trip. "Relationships suck."

"Can I just ask a question?" She asks from behind the kitchen island, where she's sprinkling sugar on top of an apple pie filling mix. "If you and Jade argue so much, why in god's name are you still together?"

"I-" Callum begins and then pauses. "I don't know. We always fought, you know, but I'd always come back and apologize and we'd make it work again."

"Why'd _you_ apologize?" Amelia asks him, and then curses when she spills the sugar. "I'm sure she was in the wrong a couple times."

"Because I didn't think there was anyone else for me." Callum says, so quietly Amelia can barely hear him. "I thought she was my only option."

"So if she's all there is for you, go and make it better," Amelia says irritably.

"But that's thing," Callum muses. "I'm not quite sure she is, anymore."

Amelia very nearly drops the sugar container again, but she catches herself.

Before she can say anything, Callum's reached forward and grabbed the mixing spoon full of pie filling.

"You did _not_ just purger my pie," Amelia glares at him. "Not before I've even put it in the oven."

"Is good pie," he grins, mouth and cheeks full of pie filling, and Amelia groans.

"_Thief_." She spits at him, but the corner of her mouth is lifts like it always does when she's trying to hide a smile, and when she looks back up he's frozen, eyes blue and locked on hers intently, like she's enchanted him, flipped his world upside down and on its head with that one little word.

_"Regina,"_ he breathes, and Amelia's heart sinks a little.

(Who is this _Regina_ chick, and why does he say her name like a prayer, with reverence and love, like it's the most important thing to him in the world?)

"I"m _Amelia_, you idiot," she grumbles, and he snaps back to reality.

"Amelia," He says, and she smiles sarcastically. "Oh, god, Amelia, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she says, her smile thin and eyes warning him not to test her. "Who's Regina?"

"Regina? I don't know," he admits. "I don't think I've ever met a Regina."

Amelia shrugs. "Maybe you met her at a party and got schwasted and had the most _amazing_ sex of your life-"

"-and when I woke up, I tried to find her, but sadly, she had disappeared into the night. I pined for her daily-"

"-confiding your secret desires to your trusty friend, Mr. David Nolan-"

"Oh, please, David couldn't keep a secret to save his life, if I told anybody about my Regina, my one true love who was taken from me, I'd tell you." Callum laughs. "I don't think you're one to share secrets."

"You barely know me," Amelia admonishes.

"But I'm right, am I not?" He says shrewdly, and his eyes light up with triumph when she nods.

Amelia leans forward to reply, but David and Mary come down the stairs with rumpled clothes and (on David) lipstick stains, and her roommate takes in the scene and gets that look in her eye like she's got something to say, and it scares just a little bit, so she shoos the boys out and goes back to her pie.

Once the door closes, Mary pounces. "You _totally_ like him."

"You're _totally_ on weed."

"Not true," Mary replies scathingly. "You'd think you'd know the difference between weed and pot. Anyway, don't try and change the subject; you totally like him."

"He's dating _my half-sister._"

"And yet you don't refute that you like him." Mary says. "And you're eons better than that bitch Jade."

"Town pariah versus golden girl. Oh, yeah," Amelia replies scathingly. "I'm _definitely_ the one that comes out on top."

"He looks at you like you're a dream he'd never thought he'd have again." Mary tells her. "And you look at him like you've found something you've lost, like he's the best of you."

"Thank you, Nicholas Sparks," Amelia snorts. "Anything else you'd like to tell me? Perhaps '_Stay gold, Ponyboy_'? Or '_Never let go, Rose_'?"

"You _like_ him."

"I don't _know_ him."

"But you want him...all the more for that." Mary singsongs, and Amelia smacks her face into her palm and groans.

(She doesn't know if Mary realizes, but she never denies it.)

* * *

She's walking down the hallway when Jade comes out of Callum and David's apartment, gaze stony, cheeks sticky with what looks like tears.

"It's _you_," she says by way of greeting, and Amelia ducks her head and tries to go around.

"Don't ignore me." Jade spits, and strength from somewhere within her that Amelia didn't know existed makes her lift her head, take a step closer to her half-sister and look at her coldly.

"What?"

"Don't play coy," Jade growls. "Stay _away_ from him."

"I am _not_ out to steal your boyfriend," Amelia spits. "I've got this thing called _class_."

"What you've _got_ is a penchant for ruining my plans and taking what I want and I am _not going to let you do this_." Jade spits. "He is _mine_. He always should've been mine; this life is what I was _meant_ to have. This is the life I was supposed to lead, and he is a part of that, so leave him be."

"No one chooses the life they were meant to lead, Jade." Amelia rubs her eyes, suddenly tired. "But we do choose our actions, and I promise you I'm not out to get you, or your boyfriend."

"I don't believe you, sis," Jade gets all up in Amelia's face, and it is too early in the morning to deal with this crap.

"That's your problem," Amelia spits back, and then accidentally-on-purpose drops her coffee all over Jade's high-heeled leather boots. "And you are _not_ my _sister_, bitch."

She walks away with her head held high for the first time she can remember in a while.

* * *

On her way to the bakery, Amelia ducks into her coffee shop to get a new cup (not that she regrets the use of the old one), and she sees the stranger again.

She's sitting with Deputy Killian Jones and a boy with dark hair.

* * *

"You really pissed Jade off," Callum mentions in passing the next time she sees him. "She all but chained me to the chair to get me to stay away from you."

"Ooh, _kinky_," Amelia mutters under her breath. "Did she try any other new stuff? A whip, perhaps?"

Callum grins and laughs. "You are seriously _not_ a morning person, are you?" He says, and Amelia rolls her eyes.

"What tipped you off? My shining personality or stunning good looks?"

"Can I say it was your sarcasm?" He asks, eyes suddenly bright. "Because I must say, even after all your snark, I still find you enchanting to be around."

There's a rock in Amelia's throat. "Gee, thanks, Mr. Darcy."

His eyes suddenly light up and he says, " '_If your feelings are still as they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed._' "

Amelia chokes on her coffee. "You did _not_ just do that."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. " '_If, however, your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you that you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love- I love- I love-'_ "

"You are kidding me," Amelia's eyes get wide. "You know Pride and Prejudice?"

"Know it? I can quote it." His eyes twinkle. "I am emotionally sensitive like that."

Amelia raises her eyebrows. "_Emotionally sensitive?_ Do you need a tampon, too?"

It's Callum's turn to choke; his ears turn red and he's too busy being embarrassed to see the way Amelia's eyes soften.

* * *

And then, it happens:

It's a day like any other and Amelia's passing Callum's apartment, and she knows this is wrong and unethical and creepy but when she hears the shouts she may accidentally on purpose stop and listen.

"I'm _supposed_ to have you," Jade is saying angrily. "You are supposed to be _mine_-"

"I'm not your _toy_, Jade," Callum retorts. "You don't _own_ me."

"You don't _get_ it," Jade spits back. "I am _supposed_ to have you, have this life, this is all supposed to be _mine_-"

"You keep saying that, but have you ever considered that maybe I don't _want_ to be yours anymore? Maybe I don't _want_ this?"

"Y-you," Jade falters and Amelia almost feels bad for her half-sister. "You can't _not want_ to be mine. We've been together for so long, we're _supposed_ to be- you have never felt this way before, Cal. _Never_, so maybe this is a one-time thing. We can work this out."

"I don't _want_ to work this out, Jade." Callum says, and his voice is hard like Amelia hasn't heard it before. "I'm tired of working this out. I don't want to be with you anymore."

"You don't mean that-"

"Don't mean what? Don't mean that I don't want to fight you constantly? Or don't mean that I don't want to wake up every morning and come face to face with the realization that _I don't love you_?"

And then the apartment goes deathly quiet, and Amelia decides that maybe it's time to get to work.

* * *

He shows up at her door step that night with vodka and a bottle of apple juice and says, "I broke up with Jade."

"I heard," Amelia says softly.

He swallows.

And then he says, "Wanna play Boggle?"

And she laughs and lets him in.

(She makes them both apple martinis and tries to pretend her heart isn't doing cartwheels.)

* * *

So, um.

It's like it was after that first time she accidentally ran into him with pie in her hands: the universe just decides that she's going to see him at every possible place, everywhere she could.

But it's weird, because it's not like she's running into him in crazy places and it's weird or anything; she sees him at places that it makes sense for him to be at, and really, for them both to be at the same time. It's like something has purposefully been keeping them apart, and now that something's gone and she's seeing him in all the places she should've before.

Like, take this for example:

She's walking out of the midtown coffee shop, ignoring the dirty looks she gets and instead focusing on the order of cupcakes she's apparently got to finish before five, and normally she keeps her head down, walks quickly and with purpose, but this time she stops and ties her shoe.

It doesn't take her more than a minute, but when she straightens up Callum is right before her and smiling. If she hadn't stopped to tie her shoe for the first time she can remember (she wears heels to work religiously, but Converse were calling to her this morning) she would've missed him, which is probably what she's been doing for, well, ever.

"Hey, Amelia," he says, and she's just a bit late and not at all a morning person, but something about his good mood is infectious so she smiles back.

"Hi, Callum," she says and he gives a little fake gasp and promptly starts scanning the sky with his eyes.

"What is it?" she asks him, because all she said was hello, after all.

"You said hi. And you smiled, and normally you act as if greeting me is genuinely painful, but you actually seem _happy_ today, and you're not buried in your cellphone, so I'm just going to look for other once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Is that a blue moon over there?" he teases, and Amelia flushes.

"You're funny. Asshole." She snaps, but he doesn't seem offended or even taken aback.

"I _am_ funny," he tells her. "But I'd like to think I'm not mean. Did I offend you?"

"Thick skin," she replies. "Anyway, I've got to get to work."

"No, wait," he says, and grabs her arm. "I feel like I've offended you. Let me make up for it."

"By making me even later?" Amelia asks doubtfully, and he laughs.

"No. By...letting me buy you coffee."

"I already have coffee-"

"So I'll buy you one tomorrow. Or at least let me walk you wherever you're going?" He says, a slightly pleading note in his voice. "Let me get being an 'asshole', as you so call me, off my conscience."

"You want to walk me _across the street_?" Amelia tilts her head to the left and laughs. "_Seriously_?"

"You just don't allow people to be nice to you, do you, Amelia Mills?" Callum shoots back at her. "Yes, I do want to walk you across the street, and if you try and dissuade me any longer you're going to be quite late."

Amelia looks at her phone, curses loudly at the time, much to Callum's amusement, and gives in and lets him walk her to the bakery.

"Til tomorrow, Amelia," He says as she's climbing the steps, and she stumbles and curses.

"What?"

"Well, you didn't think I wasn't going to buy you that coffee, did you?" he smirks at her. "I'm a man of my word, after all."

* * *

And he actually does buy her that coffee, and actually, he buys her coffee everyday for the rest of the week, and he starts waiting for her at the foot of the steps in their shared apartment building, and maybe she should feel a little bit stalked or maybe a bit uncomfortable, but she doesn't. He feels _right_, like he's meant to be doing this for her, and she's meant to let him. Like they're supposed to be together.

He starts walking her to the bakery every day she works, and they talk, and she learns so much about him.

She learns that he moved to Storybrooke after high school and he's an only child, and he likes tea more than coffee (but apparently doesn't have a problem stealing hers) and likes all fruits equally, and is amazing at archery.

And she learns other stuff, deeper stuff, and then it's not just her knowing him, it's him knowing her.

And maybe that should scare her, but it doesn't.

To be honest, it feels a long time coming.

* * *

Amelia likes Callum and everything, but bailing him out of jail was not one of the things she expected to be doing after work today.

She has to go, though; it's Callum, and it's not like he wouldn't do the same for her.

* * *

"What the hell did you _do_?" she growls the moment blonde-leather-jacket-turned-Sheriff lets her near his cell. "Why I am I _bailing you out of jail_ right now?"

Callum winces. "I may have gotten in a small fight."

"Seven guys, three of which have been transported to the hospital," The Sheriff tells her when Amelia shoots her a questioning look.

She looks back at Callum and says scathingly, "_A small fight?_"

"Small in that I wasn't injured?"

"You're bruised and _in jail_," Amelia snaps. "The moment you get out of that cell, I'm going to kick your ass so hard you're going to _wish_ I'd let you rot."

Sheriff Swan's deputy, Killian Jones laughs, and Callum shrugs. "She always gets me with her honeyed words."

"I feel that, mate," Deputy Jones laughs. "I've learned to see past Swan's harsh treatment and cruelty. I know she wants me."

"You know nothing." Sheriff Swan says from where she's completing paperwork at her desk.

"He's _still in the cell_," Amelia huffs, blowing her hair out of her face. "Can somebody let him out of that cell?"

"Oh, right, right, hang on a minute." Deputy Jones reaches for his key ring and Amelia turns back to Callum.

He gulps. "You know, some women find men who get in fights attractive."

"Until you get your teeth knocked out of your head," Amelia shakes her head. "Who's going to taste-test my scones if you lose your teeth?"

"Oh, Amelia, I'd find a way," he smiles at her. "Your scone batter is delicious."

"Thief," she mutters under her breath, and stands back as Deputy Jones unlocks the cell and lets Callum out.

The moment he's on the other side of the bars he wraps her in a big hug and squeezes. "Thanks for coming, Amelia."

Amelia blushes slightly, but he doesn't see. "It's- it's not a problem. Let's just keep it a one time thing, yeah?"

"Yeah," Callum agrees, and grins.

* * *

But then, he insists on taking her out for a drink to thank her properly, and some asshole says something to him about her, complete with skeezy once-over and slimy grin, something that must be extremely offensive, because in a minute he's on his feet and all up in the guy's face, and _oh hell no_, Amelia is _not_ bailing his ass out of jail twice in one day.

"_Callum_," she growls. "Callum, calm down."

"Listen to your bitch, _Callum_," the other guy sneers. "You wouldn't want her to see you getting your ass kicked."

"You should shut up," Callum says from between gritted teeth. "_Right fucking now_."

"Callum, remember what I said about no teeth and no scones?" Amelia says desperately, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him back. "Remember how that was _not_ a good thing? That's where you're headed, Callum, dentures and sugar-free diets."

"Go yap somewhere else, bitch," the guy spits at her. "You can open your legs and bend over for him later."

And Amelia would get angry, too, but Callum already has the guy's shirt fisted in his hand and is snarling, "_Don't talk to her like that._"

And Amelia grabs his arm and succeeds in dragging him away a few feet, enough for her to get in front of him and shake his shoulders. "Callum, let's go find somewhere to eat, or something. Let's _leave_-"

The dude says something else and Amelia turns around and says, "_Would you shut up?_" and turns back to Callum.

"You listen to me, Callum Hood," she says lowly, locking her eyes on his, which have darkened several shades. "I bailed your ass out of jail for this shit_ literally_ two hours ago. You are _not_ about to get in another fight, not after that. So calm your shit and let's _go_."

The guy is still sneering and being unhelpful behind her, and as long as Callum's focused on that he's going to want to throw down Gladiator-style, so Amelia has to do something, something to distract him.

And she knows exactly what that something is.

"Callum," she says, trying in vain to keep his attention on her. "Chill the hell out."

But he doesn't listen, so she goes with plan b, bites her lip, rises on her tiptoes and kisses him.

(And let's be perfectly clear: she kisses him because she wants to, because she's been wanting to for such a long time, and if she distracts him in the process, well, that's an added bonus.)

And Amelia has other things she has to worry about, like Baby Hulk behind her being an idiot, but if she didn't she'd bask in that kiss for minutes on end, she'd think about how just one kiss made her feel whole, like she's found something she doesn't even remember looking for, like she's not _lost_ anymore.

But she doesn't have time to bask in it, so after one, two, three minutes, she pulls away roughly, ignores the catcalls, and grabs Callum's hand (he has the _best_ shell shocked look on his face) and pulls him to the exit.

She's hungry as hell, but that's just going to have to wait, because she has to get Callum home and possibly padlock his door before he gets himself into any more trouble.

* * *

"What's pissing you off?" she says when they get back to the apartment building after a half hour of silence and tension in Callum's shoulders. "Is it the bar?"

He nods, and she groans.

"I'm sorry I didn't let you get your ass kicked," She hisses. "But did you _see_ that guy? He was the size of the russian in Rocky, and I've already picked you up from a jail today. Excuse me if I didn't want to have to get your ass out of a hospital, too."

"That's not it," he says quietly, and he won't look at her, and she is losing her patience really fast, okay, with this whole fucking situation, so he better give some answers soon.

"Then what _is it_?" she says exasperatedly. "Are you mad at what he said? Are you upset you didn't finish your drink? Because it was your own damn fault, alright, you _poured it_ on his _head_-"

"I wanted to do it first," he admits.

She pauses.

"Wait, what?" she says after a moment. "You wanted to do what first?"

"Kiss you," he mumbles. "I wanted to kiss you first."

(This is when Amelia noticed how close their faces are, how their bodies are almost touching, how her lips are tingling just from being this close to him.)

"You wanted to kiss me first?" She breathes, and suddenly they're only centimeters apart, and he nods.

Her eyes flick down to his lips.

And then she smiles. "Well, that won't be happening tonight."

His expression is priceless.

"I'm sorry, I don't kiss boys who get in bar fights and make me miss my dinner. Kind of a personal rule," she teases him, and _oh my god_ his expression is _priceless_.

He smiles winningly at her. "What if I apologized?"

"Nope." she pops the 'p'. "Better luck next time."

She isn't quite sure if she likes the mischievous look on his face, but she doesn't worry about it because even he's not crazy enough to do anything else tonight.

* * *

She's brushing her teeth when Mary runs into the bathroom.

"Amelia," she says, breathless. "Why is Callum on our fire escape?"

Amelia chokes on her toothpaste.

* * *

"_What the motherfucking hell are you doing_," she spits when she's out there and sees that yes, Callum is indeed on their fire escape.

"I realized, I never told you goodnight," he says, charming smile on his lips. "What kind of gentleman does that?"

"Alright, so long, farewell, _Auf Wiedersehen_, goodnight-" she says hastily. "Just get off my fire escape!"

"Did you just quote the Sound of Music?" he says, amused.

"_That_ is what you're taking from what I just said?"

* * *

He gets off the fire escape eventually, but not until she's admitted to memorizing the Sound of Music and has thrown him a dozen (reluctant) kisses.

* * *

Two days later she's at the grocery store getting some milk and she runs into Deputy Jones and the dark-haired boy in the dairy aisle.

"Ms. Mills," Deputy Jones says with a smile. "Hope your man's kept out of trouble?"

"He _attracts_ trouble." She snorts. "But I haven't had to bail him out of jail again, so that's a plus."

"You bailed King Robin out of _jail_?" the dark-haired boy exclaims. "That's so _cool_!"

"King Robin-?" Amelia says bemusedly. "I bailed Callum Hood out of jail. I don't know about any King."

"They're the _same person_," the boy says excitedly. "And you're his Queen, Regina. He's your true love!"

Amelia falters, and thinks of back in her kitchen, when Callum looked at her and said Regina, said it like a prayer.

"Alright, lad," Jones says quickly. "Let's get you back to your mum."

But the little boy doesn't move; he locks his eyes on Amelia's and says, very calmly and quietly, "Don't forget, okay? He's your king, and you're his queen, and you just found each other."

"Henry," Jones says exasperatedly. "Your mum happens to be my boss, so-"

"I didn't know Sheriff Swan had a son," Amelia says, but she doesn't look away from the boy.

"Neither did she, til about six months ago, when the lad ducked out and brought her back to our fair city," Jones smiles again, a little thinner this time. "Come on, Henry, I don't fancy holding your mum at bay again."

They walk away, and Amelia's left with confusion and this weird sense that something just clicked, because she met Callum six months ago. Six months ago the clock moved, and that shouldn't be weird, but Amelia doesn't remember it ever doing that before.

Six months ago, it was like the whole city came unfrozen.

* * *

She stops by Callum's apartment on her way home, and the moment she opens the door he kisses her.

(It's kind of a little bit perfect.)

When he pulls away, he grins and says, "Sorry. But I couldn't wait another day."

She smiles, and his eyes light up.

"Callum," she says tentatively. "Have you- did you ever figure out who Regina is?"

He tenses subconsciously just at the name. "I'm afraid not. Why?"

Amelia swallows. "No reason. Just curious."

* * *

She tosses and turns all that night, because something about that, something about the combination of Regina and Robin, it makes her feel like-

like-

Like there's something she should _know_, something she should be aware of, just out of reach.

* * *

They're out getting milkshakes with Mary and David, and Callum keeps telling her she's got chocolate on her lip, and he finally resorts to kissing it away, and Mary awws and David laughs, and Amelia blushes but she can't shake the feeling in the pit of her stomach that says that she's _missing_ something, that says that she's-

-that somehow this is all wrong.

(She blames that stupid run-in at the dairy aisle.)

* * *

The next time she sees Henry, he runs up, face full of eager excitement and asks her if she remembers anything.

She sighs. "I can't remember something that's made up, Henry," she says, and his face falls.

Before he walks away, she bites her lip and asks, "What-what were they like? Regina and Robin? Did they love each other?"

His eyes light up. "They loved each other so much. She'd lost her first love, and he'd lost his, and they loved each other like they didn't think they'd ever be able to again. They loved each other like the sky could come down, the earth could crumble, and they'd be there, in the wreckage, still loving each other."

And Amelia doesn't know if she believes that she's a story book character, but she does know that she wants that kind of love.

* * *

She knows something's wrong when she sees Killian, tired and haggard and defeated looking in her coffee shop three days later, and when he looks up and his eyes are red, she knows it's terrible.

"Deputy Jones?" she asks urgently, sliding into the booth across from him. "What is it?"

"Swan's boy is in the hospital," he tells her, voice hollow and low. "Lad came into contact with some type of poison, doctors don't know what it is. They don't think he'll survive, and if he doesn't-" he sighs. "Well, I care about the little lad."

"And you love his mother," Amelia says, and Killian sighs again.

"Aye, lass. I suppose I do."

* * *

And for the first time Amelia can remember, she skips work that day, goes home, and prays to whatever god is listening to save Henry, because she doesn't know him and has barely talked to him, but he reminds her of Mary, and he's so innocent and kind and eager that-

He just _can't_ die.

So she curls on her bed and prays, and that's where she is the moment the wave hits.

* * *

And she gasps and her eyes fly open and downstairs she thinks Mary's dropped a glass, she can hear it shatter, but she can't focus on that because-

-she's Regina.

_Oh, god, she's Regina._

* * *

Two minutes later, she's running down the hallway, taking the stairs two by two, because oh, god, she's _Regina_, Queen Regina of Locksley, and her mother is Cora and her father, oh, her dear father, and she is married to King Robin of Locksley and she loves him like she didn't know was possible, and-

There he is, on the stairs below her, probably on his way up to find her.

"_Regina_," he breathes, and she thinks there might be tears in her eyes.

"_Thief_," she breathes back, and he laughs and then she laughs, and oh, god, she's definitely crying, now, and he's kissing her breathlessly, like he thought he'd never be able to do so again, and he's holding her face in his hands and looking at her like she's something precious.

"I love you," he says. "_I love you so much_."

"I love you, too," she replies, and she smiles and he laughs and says that she hasn't smiled like that in a while.

And in that moment, she is 100% complete.

And then it hits her, and she looks at him and she can see it hit him, too.

"Robin," she breathes. "While you were-"

"I didn't see him," He replies, all the love in his eyes replaced with panic. "Regina, I never saw him once."

"I didn't either," She says, and now she's freaking out and furious, because if Zelena has hurt him she is going to flay the skin off of her, piece by papery piece.

"Robin," she says urgently, fear filling up both of their eyes. "_Where the hell is Roland?_"

* * *

**ii.**_ -this is where we start again._

* * *

_**tbc**._


End file.
